


slow dancing to our torch song

by orphan_account



Category: Glee
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Friendship/Love, Post-Season/Series Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 05:52:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7302013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mercedes is about to lay her heart on the line as best she knows how to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. intro: muted confession

Mercedes sat down on her bed as the ringing tone started blaring, nervously biting her bottom lip, her left hand rubbing up and down the length of her thigh.

Sam answered sometime before the third ring, his voice coming out very clear, no clatter of noise warring with it. He probably was home already like she'd hoped he'd be. Was probably in his room like she was.

"Hey, beautiful."

"Hey, Sam," she said, managing to sound almost casual though she could feel something like her heart beating inside her throat.

"What's up?"

Inhaling a slow breath and letting it out as mutely as possible, she bit her bottom lip again, hand remaining constant in its up and down over her soft sweatpants. "I… — I finished recording today."

He chuckled, the quality to it vibrant, open. "That's awesome. Were you happy with how your mystery song turned out?"

"Pretty much. My producer feels insanely positive about it. He…— ah, he wants to release it as the album's first single," she said proudly, nodding to herself.

"That's fucking amazing. It says a lot about your writing talent that he'd want to go that way." She beamed, basking in his straightforward praise, the tension in her body unmitigated.

"The reason I'm calling—"

"Since when do you need a reason?"

"I know. I know," she told him, laughter spiking through her words for a beat now. Another barely audible slow inhale and exhale, and, — "Sam, it's just …— I wanted to let you know that the mystery song, _Lyrical_ , is about you."

"Really?"

Mercedes could feel her skin go hot because of how he just sounded: deep and playful, private and sexy. "Really," she told him.

A pause. "What type of a song is it?"

_It's a love song_... "I wrote it thinking about our time in New York, so…" she said carefully, aptly sidestepping a more direct answer. She squeezed her knee as she added, — "You've always been very significant to me, and the song …— it just captures how I felt about you as well as what you mean to me."

Another pause. "So it's a 'we were madly in love with each other and now we're friends but you hold a special place in my heart' sort of song?"

Her tongue came out to wet her lips, her throat suddenly dry. "Not exactly, Sam. It's written as a moment frozen in time. How I felt when I was in love with you and all the reasons you gave me to love you just by being who you are."

"Oh," he said, so articulately. Sam barely paused before adding, — "I would …— Is there any way I could have a listen to the song… soonish maybe?"

"That is entirely possible." Heart once more beating some wild tattoo somewhere near her voice box, Mercedes squared her shoulders even though there was no one to face in the deserted room. "Listen, Sam, I know I could get a copy and send it to you, but it feels too personal of a thing to deliver through Facebook, so what do you say I come down to Boston on your day off from Delfino?"

"I say: Boston and I would most definitely love to have you, Miss Mercedes Jones," he answered, voice striking that magical color past the middle distance between nonchalant and warm.

Mercedes smiled so wide it hurt, her body relaxing at last even though a moment later she had returned to biting her lip. Sam went on to ask about the latest _Red Oaks_ episode, and she focused on the easy conversation he offered, letting his voice wash over her enough that, when she spoke in return, it was easy to ignore the fact that come Thursday she was about to do the equivalent of setting lightening to the sky above them the better for Sam to see the multitude of things that had been playing under her surface since the summer.

~#~


	2. unseen surrender

Keeping his attention trained on the still empty space above the tracks, Sam slipped his hands inside his pockets, thankful that the waiting area at Back Bay Station was less crowded than the last time he was here. He'd arrived twenty minutes early, nerves and expectation pumping certain as blood through his wired system. His apartment had felt even smaller than it was as the hours ticked down. He'd tried listening to music and watching tv, but for once these activities had done nothing to ease him into distraction. He'd thought about working out as the last of 5 o' clock faded, but he'd worked out strenuously as part of his morning routine.

He took out his cell, hands steady even as he swallowed: 6: 40 p.m. Arrival time. He took a steadying breath, reflex having him return his eyes to where they'd been fixed before.

He hadn't been imagining things when he noticed the hesitant undercurrent playing in Mercedes' voice as they spoke on Tuesday. She'd _been_ uncharacteristically nervous throughout their opening exchanges. Sam had been both curious and apprehensive as hell as he listened to her. The last time Mercedes had sounded like that Sam had been about to hear that she had started dating Tank, a relationship that would last two and a half years.

She had dated since, but had yet to be truly serious with anybody again, so Sam had been dreading the end of her dry spell. _Instead she gave you news that made the galaxy momentarily stop in its constant and relentless desire to keep on moving, Sam_ …

He blinked, skin going several degrees hotter as, up ahead, the tracks rattled, effectively jogging him out of his thoughts, his heart slamming like some huge linebacker against his ribcage. He took an absent step forward, instinctively wanting to swallow whatever distance separated him from closer to her.

A few seconds and the Amtrak train started barreling into sight as it swiftly slowed to a stop, the sound as it halted somewhat muted for such a powerful machine. Sam waited, tension a tattoo over his frame. It felt like an eternity and a century before the doors started sliding open when in reality it was just over a minute.

Mercedes descended with the first burst of passengers, thank God. His eyes slid over her as she moved: her beautiful face and that dangerous black top... that merciless evil top, and her heart–shatteringly beautiful face again. Sam let the biggest smile pull at his lips as, their stares catching past the thin crowd, they started walking towards each other, gravity clicking into place like it hadn't in forever and maybe,… — maybe the velvet box with the ring currently stashed inside his top drawer wouldn't be filed as a dark walk into the land of delusional hastiness.

~#~


	3. progression: they rhythm of you and I

Sam held the door open for her using the weight of his body, his left hand still clamped around the handle of her rolling hot pink luggage. Mercedes entered, unable to ignore how coming into his apartment somehow felt like walking into her home back in Lima (that homey vibe was something she still didn't quite get when she arrived at her place in New York). She'd had the same instinctive response to Sam's place the first time she'd been here back in July.

Because of the apartment's layout she walked directly into the living room/dining area, and, after a beat of quiet observation, she turned her head so she could give Sam a bright, wide grin over her shoulder. "As I said the last time I visited: I'm _sure_ this is always this tight, Sam."

"And as I answered back then: but of course I would _never_ try to impress you or make you feel comfortable when you stop by, Mercedes," he returned sarcastically, his tone blatantly playful, green eyes lit up as he followed her in.

It was early November but they were experiencing an Indian Summer, so she was only wearing a thin, mid – thigh black cardigan coat over her black top. She quickly got rid of that outer layer of clothing, folding the fabric over her forearm before going to the ready row of pecks by the door, her posture kept proud though she was feeling somewhat self–conscious about the halter top she'd decided to wear.

Which was…

Well, it was probably the lowest dropping cleavage her wardrobe had to offer. As Mercedes turned around, she was more than half hoping to catch Sam stealing a long glance at her and was definitely disappointed when she discovered that, having parked her single item of luggage flush against the wall, Sam was now entering the kitchen.

She followed him in, lingering at the narrow entrance. "So what have you thought up for dinner, Sam?"

They had already agreed that they would eat, go to a club (Royale), then come back so Sam could listen to her song. It was a schedule Mercedes had backed one–hundred–percent wholeheartedly because it gave her time to spend with Sam before _Lyrical_ was played on Sam's laptop, its contents clear and personal enough that her heart would be completely unveiled. If things turned out not as she fervently hoped for, then at least she'd have gotten to share an evening with one of her best friends while avoiding the awkwardness of listening to the song right away, being rejected, and then having to spend the night regardless because the last train was gone.

Opening the fridge, Sam turned his head and answered her last question, – "Tonight I will delight you, Miss Mercedes Jones, with wild caught shrimp scampi over linguine for our main dish, followed by chocolate panna cotta with rosewater syrup for our dessert. Oh, and this," he added, turning around and holding up a bottle of Chardonnay.

"You're really just an evil robot from the future built to spoil the ladies, aren't you?" she said, inevitably falling into their friends–who–mock–flirt banter.

He chuckled as he deposited the bottle on the countertop before leaning back on his haunches so that he could pull on the third drawer from top to bottom. Fishing for something for a beat, he went on to smile as he retrieved a corkscrew. "You only say that because you haven't seen what I dish out when Blaine and Kurt visit."

Laughing, Mercedes came further inside the cramped space. Opening the overhead cabinet built over the stove, Sam took out two glasses. Mercedes watched him as he went about the task of opening the wine bottle, hot tension running over her body as she surreptitiously drank in the fluid dexterity and easy strength to him.

* * *

"You left this behind," Sam said, walking into the small porch behind her.

She turned as he stopped when he was level with her, handing her back her third Chardonnay glass.

Mercedes accepted it, aware that she could handle one more just well especially after the delicious dinner they'd shared. "I hadn't seen these many stars out in a while."

He nodded, taking a sip from his glass. "I'll grant you New York has its pluses, but the night sky is definitely not one of them."

"The night sky here, on the other hand, is good enough to manage to keep a self–professed country boy like you around, no?" she said, her voice honey and spice, teasing and affectionate. She downed some of her Chardonnay, feeling herself go soft around her edges partly because of the alcohol coursing through her system but mostly because Sam was around.

He chuckled before taking another sip. "Yep. Roslindale is a nice compromise: still in Boston, a city, and yet, you know, green and homey."

Sam's neighborhood definitely fit that description. "I like it here, Sam," she found herself saying before a fraction of a second was gone, the words slipping out unfiltered and meaning various things: she liked it here in this area of Boston, she liked it here in Sam's apartment, she liked it here looking up at the stars, and she liked it here near Sam.

"Do you?"

Mercedes snapped her attention towards him, caught by how he'd just sounded: too serious, intensity spiking crystalline past the surface of his low tone. It was as though he'd heard and understood all of what her previous admission encompassed. Sam was looking back at her as Mercedes turned, what had been in his voice seconds ago mirrored boldly in the expression playing across his eyes as he regarded her.

She recognized that look.

It'd been too long since she'd been on the receiving end of that look.

Moth drawn to wildest flame, Mercedes turned on her heels, tongue coming out to wet her lips, a not too subtle sway to her hips as she took two steps in his direction, almost completely swallowing the distance that separated them. "Sam, why don't we, —"

"Skip the club and the dancing," he said, stare dropping to her mouth.

Mercedes nodded, stare dropping to _his_ mouth. "And, —"

"Listen to _Lyrical_ ," Sam finished breathlessly, reaching for her, her hand, the contact dangerously electric as he smiled slow and brilliant at her before he proceeded to use their hold on each other to lead her back inside.

They separated as he went to his room to look for his laptop while she fished the USB flash drive and headphones from out of an easily accessible compartment lining the inside of the top of her suitcase, which she then deposited on the low table in front of Sam's creamy leather couch. She swallowed as Sam returned, her skin hotter than lava and her heartbeat distracting.

Sam placed the 2016 HP on the table beside the items she'd taken out, and turned the thing on. As the screen flashed from dark to colorful, Sam popped up a questioning eyebrow, — "Headphones?"

"Headphones," Mercedes clarified. Biting down on her bottom lip before letting her mouth curl into a small smile, she added, — "I'll be in your laundry. _Lyrical_ is the only file in the USB, so… — yeah, have a listen and then we can discuss it, Sam."

"Ok, Mercedes," he said, voice managing to hit every note caught between hot and caressing. Sliding the headphones on, he let a wide smile unfurl.

Mercedes could feel the weight of his stare on her as she went about walking to the hall. She heard no sound of fingers against built–in mouse buttons or keys as she went, and she found herself grinning even though her knees felt kind of weak below her hips…— Sam was…— he was respecting her desire to allow for some distance as he listened to her track. It was more than cute: another piece of evidence reinforcing the conclusion that he was well worth the hassle of putting herself on the line like she was.

~#~


	4. refrain: laid bare

Mercedes instructed herself to keep on breathing as she closed the door to Sam's laundry room. Her skin felt like the hyperactive center of some supernova, her knees still weak as she propped herself against the washing machine, elbows resting over its cold glossy top. Sam would be listening to her song in the next few minutes. Her song: a 4: 18 minutes long musical love letter that would serve as a declaration.

She exhaled, wishing she hadn't left her cellphone and purse inside her luggage in her haste to not be there as Sam listened because now she'd have to resort to less efficient ways of keeping time. So... a little over 4: 18 minutes and she'd know. She'd get her answer. Which meant she only had to count to sixty at a medium pace five times (taking under consideration the span that'd be necessary for Sam to enter his password and open the USB) and Sam should be somewhere near the laundry searching for her.

Drumming her fingers against her belly as she inhaled another steadying breath, Mercedes closed her eyes, willingly picturing Sam listening. _Lyrical_ was fairly uncomplicated: a slow paced, reeling arrangement incorporating elements of R & B, neo soul, and hip hop soul. Her voice floating over the music sexier, more playful and more personal than she'd ever sounded on record. No hook; the song was simply divided into two sections by means of a refrain: _in the end, there's too much to say, it suffices that you know, my love for you is so that you make me take a turn for the lyrical_.

Mercedes licked her lips, logically aware that, if not right now, then Sam should be hearing her whispered intro soon enough: _they say love is irrational, and I agree because it surpasses the limits set by logic and reason, and yet you've given me every logical reason to love you_ …— followed by a self – conscious, sultry chuckle serving as a sort of punctuation mark. _Lyrical_ started out innocent enough, lyrics revolving around Sam and Mercedes' time at McKinley. Sam being the best crowd when she'd sing. His smiles. His being her first kiss and first relationship. Her getting to know his surface and a lot of his core. Her having to learn about comics and him memorizing _The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill_ by the end of their third week together during that summer they'd kept things between them a secret. Her being so drawn to him that she inevitably returned to him after her failed second relationship.

Nervously drumming her fingers against her belly again, she could almost swear she could feel something like the air thinning dangerously inside her lungs. She completed an up to sixty count before returning to her previous method of passing time, now imagining Sam going over the second section of her song. Here _Lyrical_ entered rockier terrains: love, separation, and desire. Their time at New York, how madly in love they'd been. How their game of 'Know You Best' had acquired new depths and led to the best moments. Their break up. Their friendship. Pristine shards of what Mercedes had been feeling for over six months now: mentions of how much she loved the width of his shoulders, how her day went from grey to bright when she spoke to him on the phone, the fact that she laughed too much whenever they were near each other, how she missed their games of 'Know You Best'. His scar. She loved his scar, and her song covered the embarrassing fact that she kept wanting to trace over it. The verse about her fantasizing about being at liberty to go over his scar with her fingers was the last one before her refrain again. A short Spanish guitar solo guided the song to its quiet conclusion.

Now opening her eyes, she started counting again. Only up to twenty, and Mercedes felt her throat constrict dangerously as she heard Sam outside, heard his hand settling on the doorknob.

"Mercedes, can I—"

" _Please_ ," she said. Licking her lips, experiencing what were most definitely palpitations (and God was she too much of an adult for that again), she straightened so that she was no longer resting against the washing machine as Sam gingerly pushed the door open.

Sam barely paused once the door stopped being an obstacle. One instant he was at the entrance, next he was taking two steps, a fraction and his arms were around Mercedes. Mercedes swallowed, confused because a hug could mean various things and she'd barely been able to catch a glance at his expression as he entered, confusion dissipating when Sam kissed her neck, the press of it intimate and drawing, then his teeth barely exerting pressure against the delicate skin but definitely pressing. That certainly cleared matters up.

Legs gone totally liquid under her, Mercedes turned her face towards him. Their lips caught fast, their mouth to mouth a swift, heated avalanche: a short introduction, a brush and breath flowing, their eyes catching for an instant, ... — and then gravity - shifting depth and emotion, their kiss too deep, too consuming. Mercedes threaded her hands in Sam's hair as he pulled her in impossibly closer, his hands deft as he went under the fabric of her black top, fingers branding over skin already gone past volcanic.

One kiss bled into another, again and again and _again_ : each mouth to mouth articulate, sparks catching paper and bursting into true powerful flame, their hands tracing patterns of mild – melting distraction as they stole breath, stole sanity from each other.

It must have been over twenty minutes before they thought to take any sort of true break from kissing.

They didn't allow for too much distance as they separated: Sam pressing his forehead against hers, and she instinctively reaching so that she could massage his earlobe. Mercedes loved the little groan her massage earned her. She smiled. A beat, and she was smiling against his mouth because he'd moved the necessary fraction to steal a lingering peck.

As Sam backed away, her eyes till closed, she chuckled. "So I take it you got my super subtle message, Sam."

He kissed her forehead, arms around her holding her tighter in for a moment. "Your song is... the bomb in every possible way," he said, voice raw – sounding and happy, desire mellowed by simpler feelings. Mercedes opened her eyes, once again caught by how expressive Sam's gaze was. She loved everything currently playing there.

Lost in him, lost in the spell weaved by their closeness, Mercedes popped up an eyebrow when Sam took a step away from her.

He grinned one of his most knowing and playful grins. "Come on, I want to show you something," he said, taking her hand and leading her out of the room.

~#~


	5. 2nd section: forward motion

Sam gently pulled her back into the apartment's living area and Mercedes followed, a curious, shy smile tugging at her lips. He stopped but used their hold on each other to guide her in front of him, then their joined hands were overhead as Sam twirled Mercedes before pulling her close against his body as she completed the playful turn, his strong arms enfolding her. Mercedes laughed, the quality to it knowingly sultry. She had missed being in a comfortable relationship, the silly things one got into. More to the point: she'd missed being in a relationship with Sam. No one else ever displayed Sam's level of creativity and care when it came to finding sure pathways to physical contact.

Mercedes turned, keeping soft hold of his fingers, the expression caught in her stare equal parts love and flirtation. "You wanted to show me something?"

Sam nodded. Mercedes popped an eyebrow up as the silence stretched for a few beats, her nerves flaring but then Sam was grinning at her in such a way that she knew whatever was coming was not one of the awful scenarios that she had almost imagined seconds ago.

"I'll show you in a bit. But first: you said in _Lyrical_ that you missed 'Know You Best' … so, what do you say to a game? First one to reach 9 wins."

Giving Sam a questioning look, Mercedes nodded once. "If I win… I get guitar lessons every dawn while I'm in Boston."

Sam responded with a look that was all intensity, green eyes strikingly alight with whatever was playing under his surface. "And if I win… you consider."

Mercedes nodded her assent, nerves flaring again but now in anticipation: that she'd need to consider necessarily meant that some sort of offer would be posed. Doors of possibilities opened up: Sam could be asking her to go on a trip with him or he could be asking that they move in together. Both seemed somewhat likely since Sam was both a romantic and _very_ proactive once he decided on something. Both would be very much accepted.

Sam cleared his throat. "Ladies first."

"Ok. Though you're not completely without rhythm ballroom dancing is just beyond your capabilities. There are days when you still lament not having recorded our second and last ballroom dancing lesson because by the end of it our instructor had this expression that covered the spectrum from quiet horror, to total hopelessness for the future of your cha–cha– cha, to amused amazement."

Sam laughed, the sound rich, bubbly. "That man's _face_ as I got progressively worse was…—well, it was the stuff of Youtube legend. You're definitely right on both counts with your first turn, Mercedes. So, two points."

She gave him a look. Two points was stingy: that was past superficial knowledge and incorporated two facts about Sam. "You trying to rig this game, Sam?" she asked, tone light.

Sam ran his thumb over her skin softly, the innocent contact feeling electric due to how wired up she was. "Maybe," he confessed. "My turn: you've sung ever since you can remember, but it was only when you were eleven, after your mother fell asleep while she held you in her arms as you sang _Can't Take My Eyes Off You_ that you discovered singing could be something more than fun."

Mercedes smiled before bowing her head, feeling self–conscious. That was a story only people she really trusted knew. Her mom, Angela, had been clinically depressed after her sister and best friend, Auntie Esther, passed away following a tough battle with cancer; one of the manifestations of her mom's depression had been pretty severe insomnia, which had led to frail health and general irritability among others. That night her mom fell asleep holding on to Mercedes marked a turning point. Her mom would wake up the following day wanting to make pancakes (something she hadn't done since her sister's passing). It would take around seven months from then on, but her mom would return to being her vivacious, funny, loving self.

Sam only got to know about _Can't Take My Eyes Off You_ when they'd been a formal couple at McKinley for over a month.

"I, unlike you, am fair. So I will grant you three points for that," she said graciously. "Since you're playing hardball: you've never stopped loving somebody once you've loved them. Any serious ex–girlfriend has remained your friend. You exchange Christmas cards every year with your best friend from middle school, who has been in her native Uruguay for the past decade."

He nodded as she talked, then gave her a small grin. "Right. You get two points."

She opened her mouth in mock affront. "Rigger. You're just a no good, cheating rigger trying to get me to consider, aren't you?"

"I don't know what you're referring to." He pulled her in a little closer, gravity feeling heavier, air feeling thinner with the lessened distance. "You've never before expressed any kind of inclination for scars that I remember… so I have to believe it's only because it was my brightest super brother moment to date that you dig this one," he said, holding his forearm up.

Mercedes swallowed before reaching out, their glances catching hot and private as she ran her fingers over his scar like she'd been fantasizing about for too long. Twenty seven stitches. She'd been in Atlanta when Sam went on Facebook and posted the photos without getting into the whole story. His proud mother was the one who offered up the details of how Sam had wounded up injured. She leaned forward and dropped a kiss on his scar, loving Sam's sudden intake of breath at the move.

Beaming, she moved back, content with the way his eyes followed her. "Well, true: I love the fact that you just shielded Stacey's face without sparing a thought for yourself when that massive vase fell sideways. I love that you're that kind of person. Obviously. However, the scar looks good on your forearm. It…— it just does, don't ask me why."

"You're really just much naughtier than what your virginity might suggest and we'll be having insane amounts of naked fun in the near future," he told her, dark, knowing laughter in his voice.

Her skin went hot with his comment. "You get two points."

"Who's rigging now?"

"Not rigging: you were not completely on point. See? I remain purely wearing my halo of fairness, Sam," she said. Sam made a very interesting face when she stuck her tongue out at him. "My turn: your favorite Marvel hero is Captain America. You identify with his over–protectiveness and you think his conflict about being a man out of his time is interesting. Sometimes you cheat on the Captain with one Spidey."

Sam nodded. "All true. One point."

"Now you're just being shameless."

An expression Mercedes couldn't decipher settled over his features. He took a steadying breath, and said, — "You build yourself up tough but you tear up whenever you watch _WALL – E_ and you lost over ten pounds when Santana and Brittany almost got a divorce a year ago. You're the only person besides Blaine who ever thinks to cook for me when you come visit. You have the best smile but more than that you have the best giggle. Your giggle… is just a weapon of absolute power and temptation that sometimes goes straight to my cock. I…" He looked afraid for a moment, so Mercedes gave his bicep a squeeze, her touch coaxing. Licking his lips, he added, — "You have a beautiful heart and you never compromise what you consider to be essential. You're incredibly good to and for me, just… the best thing that keeps happening to me."

Mercedes felt too much, felt too present in the wake of his words . Sam sounded…— he sounded too serious, too intense, too wanting. She gave him her gentlest smile, trying to mellow the tension of the moment. "You get all points, Sam. That was…—" she broke off, swallowing, her throat closed up all of a sudden for reasons she couldn't quite pinpoint. "Which means: you know me best," she went on to say, their surrender words for when a round of the game was won and you were not the victor.

It was Sam's turn to swallow, his Adam's apple bobbing. "And it also means that you'll consider."

"Yeah," she said quietly, confused.

Mercedes watched as Sam half spun on his heels and disappeared into the hall. She heard him messing about in his bedroom, her heart jumping up to somewhere in the vicinity of her voice box. The trip was looking like the less likely option after such an intense lead up. Which meant Sam was either asking her to move in with him or—

She bit her bottom lip as he returned. He paused as he entered, a slow smile unfurling.

Mercedes instructed herself to breathe when, coming closer, he took her hand before going down on one knee. She began shaking. He steadied her, his hands still.

His voice was unguarded when he spoke: an expressive low, raw quiet tone that couldn't have been more eloquent. "I don't think I can take another break up with you. I don't think I can keep trying to be one of your best friends when I also keep wanting everything else from you. I try to always be the one who knows you best, but, Mercedes, please, let me also be the one who loves you best." Reaching into the back pocket of his jeans, he retrieved a velvet box. Mercedes' stare went cloudy as, opening the box so that its contents were on display, Sam said, — "Mercedes Jones, will you marry me?"

Looking at him, her heart stuttered inside her chest… Mercedes had promised to consider. So she considered, distantly, the fact that she liked plans. She liked protocol: date, get engaged, marry. So she considered how she knew, deep in her bones, that she loved Sam: romanticism, and living in the moment, and staying when the moment was gone. Bright flairs and steep angles built around a solid, beautiful core.

Her answer came sooner than she'd have imagined: everything inside her coming to a momentary stop, a moment of perfect quiet, perfect certainty.

Mercedes wiped at her cheeks onehanded as she reached for the velvet box. "Yes, I will, Sam," she said, her voice both lead and caress, that sure and that gentle.

Sam went to his feet almost unnaturally fast, pulled her into the warmest, tightest hug, and he felt like home (which was good, because he'd be home to her from this point onward). She turned her face so that she was mouthing against his neck, her smile absorbed by his skin. His hold on her became stronger, and then Mercedes was laughing because he'd pulled her in impossibly closer before pulling up, successfully lifting her for several beats, and God bless him and his strength because it took a powerful person to manage that.

When her feet landed back on the floor, she took a step backwards, needing the distance in order to maneuver. "Here, Sam, hold on to this for a bit," she said, handing him the box while she kept the beautiful ring. Sam returned the box to where it'd been inside the back pocket of his jeans. Mercedes barely breathed as she helped him slip the ring on.

She caught his eyes, beaming as the metal settled perfectly. "It fits."

His gaze kept traveling from her face to the ring on her finger, once, twice, three times, the expression playing across his face plainly awed. "Santana and Britt wish us the best."

"Ah," Mercedes said, understanding. Santana and Britt had gotten her the most beautiful amber ring that played amazingly over her brown skin when the two of them reunited because Mercedes had been one of the people who refused to let them give up on each other.

Cherishing the feel of the ring around her finger, rising up on tiptoe, Mercedes reached up so that she was holding on to his neck, and, pulling until he swooped down on her, she kissed him sweet and slow, sucking on his bottom lip as she came down. She rested her forehead against his. "I have the most resourceful fiancé, you know."

He laughed, the sound booming, contagious, and then he was hugging her again, making her feet leave the ground again. "We're _engaged_."

~#~


	6. last verse: the texture of you by my side

Mercedes hummed along as she sifted flour, salt, and baking soda, Mariah's _Always Be My Baby_ softly playing in the background. It was one of twenty amazing songs that had made it into her favorites playlist. She shimmied her hips as the track started in on its hook, the melody and beat flowing vivid through her as she went on to mix eggs and milk. Thankfully Sam was serious about his cooking both in and out of Delfino, so she had been able to find even the most unusual ingredient to round up her mother's recipe for simple pancakes, which was orange blossom water. Some lemon zest, brown sugar, and cinnamon would add other tasty shades to their breakfast.

She continued mixing ingredients and swaying her hips to the rhythm past the moment she heard the door open, Sam's footsteps following.

Smile perfectly spiked with warm flirtation, she turned her head when the footsteps stopped.

Sam was bare except for loose pajama bottoms hanging low on his hips, hair arranged into the most catastrophically endearing mess of bedhead. "Everything you brought to wear here was meant to have me want to strip it off you in under .05 seconds, wasn't it?"

She was wearing a burgundy negligee with delicate lace that dipped pretty low down her front. The lace detail was also sewn along the hem brushing her skin just past mid–thigh. "I _did_ come here on a mission, Sam."

"A mission to come get yo man, " Sam elaborated like a total dork, waggling his eyebrows at her. Laughing, she turned away so she could reach for the orange blossom water. "Wait… wait. Did you, when you woke up… Mercedes, did you walk naked from the bedroom almost to the apartment's entrance?"

Three and a half drops of the clear liquid onto the batter. Mercedes' skin had gone hotter than lava. "Yes," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.

"And I was asleep for this?... How come I was asleep for this?" Sam asked, coming into the kitchen and wasting no time in putting his arms around her. He kissed her neck, breathing her in. "You could've woken me up," he told her. He didn't sound accusing, just… somewhat apprehensive around his relaxed, strong edges.

Mercedes reached up to touch him for a beat, the sensitive column of his neck. "I know, but you looked really deep under, Sam, and I…I — sort of wanted to be alone for a little while. To process things."

Sam pulled her flush against his body, squeezing her. "Did your soul searching lead to good places?" he asked, his voice telling because of how carefully even he kept it.

Mercedes turned around in his embrace, pushing him gently back so that she could look at him as she talked. She needed to do that for what was coming. "I'm making pancakes from scratch wearing a sexy negligee, so the answer's not really a mystery, is it?" she said, keeping her tone light so that it remained clear that she was joking around. She knew what Sam was really asking about, though, so she added, — "I'm certain that my decision to wait to have sex was the right one for me. I'm also deeply certain that my decision to _not_ wait until our wedding ceremony was the right one for me, too. I... love my mother dearly and I know her well enough to be certain it'll easily be close to a year for the kind of wedding she'll feel content with for her beloved baby girl. I've felt just…— really intensely sexually aware for over two years now, which was why I decided to start in on the oral contraception. I decided then that I'd definitely wait until I'd fallen truly in love with someone and marriage was at least a real possibility."

Sam was nodding as she talked, the expression caught in his stare bordering on solemn.

Putting her arms around him, silently guiding him to swoop down, she gave him a paced, thorough kiss. As they separated she stole back in and sucked down on his bottom lip before biting slightly, and said, — "And now ... — I am truly in love. Deeply in love… and marriage is the most likely outcome."

"Are you so in love that you even like the kind of modest ring?" Sam asked, resting his forehead against hers. He sounded insecure about the subject. She hated to hear that in his tone.

"I love my ring," she told him sincerely, hoping to ease his fears. It was beautiful: a basket setting with lovely clarity, elegant and different. "How did you get this, Sam?" Sam was reasonably well paid as a sous - chef at Delfino, but he would've surely needed to tap into savings to get the money for the lovely ring she was wearing.

He kissed the tip of her nose, making her giggle, which, in turn, earned Mercedes a low groan from Sam. She would have to remember to use her giggle powers wisely in the future for they truly seemed to be mighty impressive. "Simple. I was planning on inviting you on a trip to Hawaii, so I was saving up for that. But instead I got you _this_ ," he explained as, reaching up behind himself for for her hand, he traced his thumb gently over the band and her skin.

"A - ha. So we were on the same wavelength, then? You were also planning to go get yo woman? With the trip to Hawaii, I mean." She gave him a grin that was too wide, too transparently smitten. Another fraction of an instant and Mercedes had dropped her hands lower so that she could unabashedly grab his ass.

Sam inhaled sharply, and Mercedes wanted to come out of her skin with how much she loved him, how much she wanted him. It was her turn to inhale audibly when Sam moved so that he was tracing lazy patterns just below Mercedes' breasts. "Would you believe it if I said that I was so used to being in love with you by that point that I wouldn't have made a move unless you gave me a very clear signal that it was what you wanted me to do?"

Mercedes swallowed when, palming her breasts, he brushed his thumb over her nipple. The air felt too charged, too lit with everything between them. "And then I told you I wrote you a song." Her voice was breathy, thin.

"Which filled me with enough hope that I bypassed Hawaii and wound up in the jewelry section in a hot second, yes," said Sam, and then he was kissing her neck, teeth pressing in just right above as, below, he flicked over her nipple once again, the action successfully drawing a low moan from her. His voice too deep, too darkly knowing, he said, — "D'you know what's really good for pancake batter?"

Mercedes turned her face so that she could catch that mouth of his, gave him a kiss that was all slow seduction and building heat. She caressed his neck as they separated. "I know almost every secret to pancakes, so let me beat you to the punch, Sam: it's really good for pancake batter when you let it sit for a while." Half-spinning on her heels, she reached for a paper towel and covered the bowl with the batter. She went on to half - spin again before popping up a challenging eyebrow at Sam.

He chuckled, fingertips lingering over her wrists before he took hold of her hands, lacing their fingers together. He pulled her forwards as he took a step backwards, his green eyes sparky affection and blunt, stormy want. "You've got that exactly right, Mercedes," he said.

Somehow his voice promised about a hundred different things.

She wanted him to follow through on every single one of them.

Past the sudden thick haze, Mercedes noticed that _Turn Your Lights Down Low_ had started playing, and she grinned as she followed Sam towards the bedroom. _Turn Your Lights Down Low_ had the best rhythm for any sort of physical activity, and, also, she thought it was sweet that they were back to Lauryn Hill like when they'd first been secretly together in Lima, when they'd get up to making out in her car with the music on. Mercedes wished it was some sort of sign from above that this was how it'd always go for her and Sam: life continuing to unwind before them and they always coming back to each other, the beat between them carrying them through rough edges and mellow curves, highs and lows and every variation of muted gray, what was between them the best sort of soundtrack for the rest of the bittersweet craziness.

Mercedes leaned forward and hugged Sam's waist from behind, shaping a lingering kiss below his shoulder blade, and then her teeth pressing. As Sam turned and drew her into a gravity shifting mouth to mouth, hands memorizing her some more as Mercedes melted into a sigh... — that they loved each other enough to make the universe take a turn for the sort of generosity that starts dishing out signs did not feel like the kind of hope she'd pin to a birthday candle, but instead like something more authentic and stronger than that, like a _very_ distinct possibility riding over the sincerest, most desperate prayer.

~the end~


End file.
